In the Colorado Rockies looking down from 8100 feet at the small town of Avon. The aspens are just beginning to bloom but the air is still crisp and cool. In the distance, the dry side of the mountains. The sky threatens rain but saves the deluge for a mysterious and unexpected time. Thus is life in the mountains.
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The sun in her eyes,
as her babies thrive.
The heart is a womb,
Not a sealed and closed tomb.
My garden’s a haven to what gardeners call “volunteers.” Some are the children of plants we’ve planted over the years and others are pilgrims to my alien shore that I don’t have the heart to starve, rip to shreds, or send out into a stormy sea.
This sunflower took root in a pot containing another plant and grew and grew and grew until it reached the sun.
The stalk is approximately five feet high. But it didn’t squeeze out the other plant. They’re living happily together.
May all your pilgrims be grateful for the protected soil they’re growing in! Even in a crowded pot, there is room to share.